Oktoberkinkyfest
by aliencatt
Summary: Now that Sam has his brother back, he is determined that said brother stops hesitating and finally lays hands on him. WINCEST.  end of s04ep5, Monster Movie, prequel to "The Whistle Blower" but can be read as a stand alone
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. I'm just a fan.

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><p>Set at the end of s04 ep5..<strong>MONSTER MOVIE<strong>

prequel to ..."**THE WHISTLE BLOWER**" and "**REVENGE IN A BROWN PAPAER BAG**" but can be read as a stand alone

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><p><strong>SAMDEAN**...ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP

**WARNING**...KINK...READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

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><p>"I thought you'd be going home with Jamie. Giving her 'comfort'?"<p>

Dean shot his brother a disgusted look. "She says she wants some 'alone time'. That she's too 'fragile' to have company right now!"

Sam found it hard to keep the grin from his face, especially as Dean kicked at the dirt with a dispirited foot. The way that he was dressed, in the white embroidered blouson tucked into the Lederhosen, Sam thought he was the perfect picture of the little boy thwarted in his attempt to steal the grumpy neighbour's apples from his prize tree. It was adorable. All that was missing was the 'ah, shucks!'. What Dean was actually mumbling under his breath was anything but cute.

But Sam glowed inside. He would never dream of denying Dean his assignations with the occasional woman, especially now as he had only just 'returned', but he was glad it had fallen through.

He selfishly wanted his brother to himself. And it was selfish. He had Ruby and Dean had no one, nothing. But then he never had. Only Sam had lasted longer than a couple of weeks. That was before. Since his return, Dean had not come near him.

Sam had not pushed. He had thought to give him time and let his brother come to him but now he was feeling it. The itch, the thing, the… 'It'. He wanted 'It'. He wanted Dean.

Now, pulling the car up in front of the latest motel room, after sitting so close to him, feeling the heat from his strong body, Sam determined he was going to get 'it', him.

Once inside, Dean just sort of loitered in the middle of the room, unsure what to do. What he really wanted to do was fuck someone, someone soft and curvy. Someone like Jamie. He was at a loss now. He could change and go out maybe, but sensed Sam was relieved that he was here.

That just made him even more antsy because Sam would not come near him. The only time they had touched had been that first hug when he had turned up at his door and Sam had stopped trying to kill him, and during a hunt, picking each other up off the floor. He was tired of it. He wanted an intimate touch, a lover's caress. He needed it.

And if not? If Sam would not touch him in love?

Then he wanted to get fucked. He wanted Sam to fuck him through the floor.

He watched his brother as Sam also appeared to be hovering. He lifted his head and an eyebrow and was about to give him his 'come hither' look, or rather his 'come and fuck me' grin, but Sam spoke.

"I'll take first shower if that's alright," and he had disappeared before Dean could get a word out.

Wrapped in a towel, Sam stared at himself in the mirror. He should just go out there, walk straight up to Dean, grab him then kiss him. But what if his brother pushed him off? That would hurt and he was feeling far too wound up to be able to cope with such rejection. He was unsure what he should dare as he did not know where they stood now that Dean was back.

They had had an avid sex life before Dean had been dragged from him, literally, becoming intense and frenzied in the days before his deal was up. But since he was back there had been nothing. Not even a tender, hesitant touch, never mind a full on make out session or fuckfest.

Enough, and he pushed back from the sink, moving, preparing to exit and face his brother.

Dean looked up as the door to the bathroom opened.

"Take that off. You look ridiculous." Sam could not believe Dean was still wearing those damn Lederhosen.

It was not that Dean did not want to get out of the inane costume, he could not. He had wanted to be ready, to be standing there naked, his body letting Sam know just what he had in mind but that had not happened.

He had tried but for some reason he could not work out how to get out of it. There was no working zipper or fastening, they were just for show, so no flies. The buttons on the braces, the suspender part of the Lederhosen, did not work either as they had just been sewn on for pure decoration. He had spent a frustrating five minutes trying to force his arms through the straps but the 'bib' part was so tight he had given up and just stood there cursing.

All he had managed to do was make himself hot and acquire a none too pleasant chaffing in a none too pleasant area. One thing was certain, under the ridiculous shorts, he was commando which led to all sorts of other thoughts he did not want or need. He was nearly as concerned as to how he had 'gotten' into them as he was as to how he was to get out.

"Make me!" Dean replied, putting in as much challenge and innuendo as he could, thinking that this could be an opportunity to get Sam to actually 'touch' him, but the frustration from both the lack of contact and the imprisoning binds of the damn costume made his voice sound angry and vindictive.

Sam's response to the almost vicious spitting rebuke was instant. Anger flared behind his eyes and he wanted nothing more than to rush over there and rub the words out of his brother's mouth. He had been waiting so long, had missed his touch, missed touching him and he was just stood there in the pathetic outfit looking petulant and…wait.

Sam looked closer as Dean practically vibrated on the spot. He suddenly became aware of the tension, thick enough in the air to pulse up against his cooling skin. Sam turned his back on him, all his senses heightened enough to hear the barely suppressed moan of almost despair as Dean obviously believed that he was abandoning him.

This had gone on for long enough. He had been intent on 'reconnecting' with his brother, hell, he wanted to fuck him, but after that vocal slap across his face, Sam was in no mood to let Dean off easy and he was determined to remind the man just what it meant to challenge and goad his brother.

Keeping his movements slow, convinced the older man was still watching, Sam almost sashayed over to the wall next to the still open bathroom door and, turning his head to quickly glance over at Dean, he let his body follow as he swung around and lazily fell back against the dark wallpaper. Standing with just his shoulders touching the cool surface, Sam appeared to be studying his left hand as his body twisted, his hips prominent as his legs bent slightly.

Dean's breath had fled as his brother just turned away from him and he had not thought to breath again before it was too late, before Sam positioned himself like some homoerotic painting of martyrdom, the white towel tucked low enough on those slim hips for Dean to see the bottom edge of his well defined oblique muscles, the folded over towel barely covering the top of his pubic hair. Dean could do nothing but stare at that trail of dark hairs on the flat belly that he had always loved to catch up in his teeth.

Sam was not looking at him, but Dean knew he was aware of his every move, so he desperately made none. He wanted to fall to his knees in front of this living, breathing Adonis. His muscles were as sculpted as any ancient Grecian statue of a laurel crowned Olympian athlete and he was obviously as proud of his body. It was even bigger, better defined than it had been the last time he had seen it, had gotten to touch it.

He swayed forwards slightly as Sam's hands moved to his torso. He had to tell himself to breath as those large hands began to caress over the smooth pale skin, the summer sun becoming a distant memory.

Sam was not too sure what he wanted but he looked down at himself, stretching his neck forwards, still with his shoulders against the wall. He wanted to incite his brother, to enflame him, but to what end he was none to certain. He wanted him flush against himself, his body pressing, insisting, all along his own. He wanted him here at his feet, his eyes staring up as he took him in that mouth that could send him to places he could never achieve by any other's.

He wanted Dean begging. He wanted Dean to demand. To stop standing there and stride over to him, to seize him in a viscous grip and force him to his knees. He wanted him to just fucking move! But his brother was motionless.

Dean continued to let Sam torment and tempt him. It would take much more than this now. Sam was a beginner, a rank amateur and had no idea how much more Dean would be able to dish out. His eyes turned to slits as he thought of the things he could do to that body, how he could make it squirm and writhe, how he could make Sam pled and beg. How he could make him scream.

He took in a shocked breath and turned away from the sight, his hand coming up to wipe at his mouth as he banished the images that had sprang to his mind, images of hurting Sam, of making him whimper in pain and submission, but still he had to look. He turned his head to watch over his shoulder as his brother bit at his bottom lip, those frown lines creasing his forehead.

What the hell? The Dean Sam knew should not be able to resist this. He had never been able to before. He let his right hand press harder, dragging at his skin as it worked its way down, his left lightly caressing in its journey up then carry on up the wall above, there to rest curved above him.

From his bent head, he looked up from under his brows and almost glared straight into his brother's eyes as he let his hand reduce its pressure and he used only the tips of his fingers to ruffle up and down that trail of hair descending from his navel that he knew his brother had an almost fetishist appreciation for.

It was unbelievable that the man was still just stood there. He could see that he had his brother's rapt attention but he could not ever remember having to work this hard at it before. He closed his eyes and pushed his head back, teeth gently catching at his bottom lip.

Then his mouth burst open as he made a mewling noise just as he pushed his hand flat to his belly, pushing down onto his prick, the towel bursting open and falling to pool at his feet. He used the length of his hand to slowly caress up and down his burgeoning prick ensuing that it remained as covered as the size would let it, teasing Dean.

Arm over his head stretching out as he thrust his crotch forwards, his head fell to the side, his eyes closing as he could feel the other eyes on him, as he hardened under the regard and his own palm. He pulled his suddenly heavy head forwards slowly, opening his eyes to check on his brother's reactions to be confronted with his own reflection in the blazing green eyes so close to him.

If Dean had not been so fixated on that open, moaning wet mouth, he might have laughed as Sam's head smacked back against the wall in surprise.

Sam smiled at him, his mouth grinning with lust and an almost obscene want, determined not to rub at the back of his head. Also he fought with the impulse to laugh at the absurdity of the look on his brother's face whilst dressed in the 'Hansel' costume. That look had no right to exist on a figure dressed so, innocent, so pure.

Dean made a low deep growl from somewhere at the back of his throat and all merriment fled from Sam as he registered the almost primal lust emanating from his brother in waves. He may well be the physically stronger of the pair but Sam found himself helpless as his hand was pulled from his prick and Dean's body rammed itself against him, his legs forced apart as Dean pushed between them, his teeth catching up Sam's bottom lip.

Dean let his brother's lip free from his teeth, changing to sucking it between his own instead. Immediately he could feel Sam responding to him, his legs becoming jelly as the only thing holding him up against the wall was Dean. Sam's hands moved to his shoulders, his own lips closing on Dean's top one but Dean was not ready for that.

He did not want to 'share' this moment, this experience. As he had stood looking at the display that his brother had put on for him, he had been overwhelmed with a desire to worship the younger man in the manner that he deserved, forcing the disquieting impulses far down to worry at another time, if ever. Still he reminded him of an Olympian of old and he wanted to do him righteous homage, showing his admiration and gratitude more than simply desire. Mainly though, selfishly, he wanted to explore the planes and angles of this new body, to take his time to discover each new outline and shape, curve and contour.

Without letting up on his capture of that bottom lip, Dean smoothed his hands down along Sam's arms, feeling his bulging biceps, his fingers pressing into the triceps, over the bones of the elbows and on to surround and grasp the strong wrists. Then he forced Sam to let go of his own shoulders and pushed his brother's arms up, over his head.

Sam did not fight the repositioning. He was more than willing to let Dean have his way with him just as long as he did. He was so relieved that his brother was finally touching him, was pushed up so tight against him. He had been forced to wait far too long and now, even though he wanted to take him in his arms and bow him to the ground as in some old fashioned romantic melodrama, he was willing to let his brother take what he needed.

Hopefully he himself would also have his need for reconnection and tenderness filled. He just prayed that…. all his thoughts fled at the feel of Dean's mouth on his throat, the teeth nipping up the skin. His head tilted to the side and he closed his eyes, moaning as the hot tongue slavered his skin just before Dean began to gently suck.

Sam tasted so good, he tasted so clean and not just due to his recent shower. His brother had always somehow tasted innocent to Dean. He knew he was not, knew his younger sibling was responsible for much and was currently such a mystery to him. It was all in his head, a left over from the days when they were young and Sam was this shinning child in his charge. Whatever the reason, Dean could not get enough of that taste now, he needed to savour that tang and began to move his mouth, sucking up the skin, licking, tasting, all around the stretched neck and shoulders.

His hands held onto the sides, just under Sam's arms, his thumbs lightly caressing the hairs in the hollows formed by the position. Licking at the Adam's apple, his tongue slid down to lead onto the well developed chest. He rubbed his cheek against the hard pectoral and liked it, so he repeated the action, enjoying the hardness against his face, enjoying the feel of skin moving, dragging against his own. He turned his face, his features pressing in hard, his lips now dragging after as he explored every inch of the magnificent torso.

Finding it harder and harder not to grab hold of his brother, Sam bit at his bottom lip as Dean continued to rub against him. It reminded Sam of a cat, rubbing his face, his hair none too gently across his body. He held onto his own forearms, still over his head against the wall, to keep them from grabbing the still costumed shoulders. His prick was so hard, caught between their bodies, only getting Dean's attention in so much as his clothes rubbed against it as he moved, slowly working his way down Sam's muscled chest.

Twisting his legs on feet still in the hiking boots, Dean lowered himself, losing his body's contact with the other but he had to follow that dip between the delineated abs leading downwards, leading to that navel and the trail of dark hairs he had always loved. He forced himself not to rush but to continue to appreciate every inch of this sculpted Adonis. He could not get the image from his mind.

Adonis had been fought over and ultimately destroyed by three goddesses. Sam was his. He did not know if he was his alone but he intended to make his claim and prove to Sam that he was all that he needed whilst still taking all that he could from him. His hands followed his downwards movement and now curved over the prominent hip bones, not an ounce of needless flesh anywhere on the frame. Then his tongue was pushing into the tight navel, his chin pushing onto the so taut belly.

Sam could not help but to move, to writhe under the attentions as the side of Dean's face practically pushed his prick out of its way to rest against his cheek. His legs were on the verge of giving out, a look of almost pain on his face as he could not help but to squirm against the wall, his head moving from side to side, his own cheek rubbing against his upper arms as they fidgeted but still remained over his head.

His shoulders slid down the wall slightly as his hips thrust forwards and the grip tighten on his hips to almost bruising as his brother regained his balance. He wanted to speak but did not know what to say. He wanted to beg but did not know for what, to plead that Dean do something, do anything. All he could do was whimper as he hoped Dean would soon do that 'something', to relieve his aching, weeping prick.

Dean knew he was leaving small sucking bite marks all along the line of that belly hair as he caught it between teeth and lips. He tugged at the hairs with his teeth, receiving a hiss and causing Sam to push from the wall again as he pulled, plucking at the hair right at the bottom of the trail. Then opening his mouth, he moved to cover the pubic bone above the base of the prick that was so hard and hot against his flesh, feeling each of the liquid drops weeping from the head wetting his skin as he gently bit then sucked.

Finally he was on his knees before the twisting, whimpering, writhing figure and he knelt back, gazing up to let his eyes drink in this vision, warm, needy and craving his touch. He did not smile, there was no smirk or grin on his lips. He looked up in shear adoration and amazement, his mouth falling open slightly as it literally watered.

Sam opened his eyes and let his gaze, in turn, move to fall on his brother. His eyes opened wide and he took in a quick breath as he saw Dean. His brother was looking at him with such an appearance of awe, of wonder and admiration that Sam froze, staring at the image of a penitent in supplication. The sight was so erotic to him, he felt his prick swell even more, and it 'jumped' catching Dean's lips that were so close, leaving another smear of precum just to the left of his mouth.

Seeing the rapt attention on his older brother's momentary youthful seeming face, his visage that of an inexperienced youth, he wanted to tease. Slowly and exaggeratedly, he moved his weight from one leg and hip to the other, rising up, moving his arms which were still holding onto each other, to the other side of his head then relaxing back down, all the time keeping 'hard' eye contact.

Dean did nothing but blink.

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TBC...


	2. Chapter 2

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Dean could not believe how beautiful his younger brother was. He knew it, had always known it but had somehow managed to forget. How could he have forgotten? It was only forty odd years since he had last seen his brother like this, bared and waiting for him. He felt the impulse, with that so eager prick right by his mouth, to lick his lips. Running his tongue to wet them instead, he blew lightly seeing the resultant shiver in his brother, hearing the pleading in the single quick gasp.

The tip of his tongue trembled against the head of that prick, touched almost hesitantly to the slit as he took up the beads of moisture and returned it to his mouth, savouring the taste. Looking up at Sam, seeing the lust and longing, he moved forwards and took the head into his mouth, closing his lips gently just behind the hood. Keeping that intense eye contact, he began to laver the end with his wet tongue, his mouth salivating at the contact.

That green gaze bore into Sam as he stared right back, his teeth biting into his check as his whole body tensed while he fought not to take control, not to drop his hands to hold that head and force his tormented prick straight into that throat. Dean's moist mouth held him captive as that tongue tortured his slit. He did not speak, Dean had not spoken a word since he had issued the aggravated challenge. There was no place for words, no need to break the spell they were under, but he could not contain the slight moans, the little hitches of breath, the sounds of need.

Dean let his tongue explore further, licking around the hood, using the flat of his tongue to press and taste, his fingers digging into Sam's hips tighter, trying to still the movement. He wanted to do this for Sam, to do this _to_ Sam, and he was not going to give up control, not at this time. Not yet.

Still looking up, he slid his loosened lips down along the length, letting his mouth relax. He watched Sam's face, watching for every little twitch and wrinkle that would tell him the effect he was having, which action was appreciated the most, which was negligent.

But then, as the taste of Sam's skin, the tang of his precum assaulted Dean's tongue, he gave up doing this just for Sam. He wanted, he _needed_ to do this for himself, more even so. He reached up with his right hand to surround the thick base of the prick he had always struggled to accommodate in his mouth and throat. As he closed his eyes to concentrate on the feel, the texture of the silken skin moving over the hardened shaft, it seemed to grow even more, whether in actuality or his imagination he did not know nor care.

All he knew was the sensation of the skin moving under his hand that was twisting, rubbing along the shaft, the heat in his mouth, the shiver he caused throughout his brother's body as he pulled his tightened lips back along it until the hood 'popped' from his mouth. He swallowed as his left hand came up to lay against Sam's thigh, his other hand never ceasing its furious movement.

The back of Sam's head connected heavily with the wall once more as Dean let his prick leave the heat of his mouth then began to handle it against his palm as those damn glorious lips of his started to kiss along the length. He gave him small light quick nips that had his knees trembling and his lips caught between his teeth to stop the swearing, the pleading from leaving his mouth.

Dean was torturing him in the most pleasurable, erotic way. He wanted to scream as the kisses became heavier, longer, the skin caught up and slavered before release. Sam was going to cum soon but Dean, who now had a strangle hold on the base of his prick, obviously had other plans.

Slowly, loving the shivers that he was causing his brother, Dean licked along the entire length with just the very tip of his tongue, licking at that hyper sensitive spot just behind the head, then back down, following that proud standing vein all the way back to his constricting circling thumb and fingers.

He repeated the action, each time just that little bit slower, spending just a little bit longer tormenting that spot. His hand gripped onto Sam's thigh tighter as he felt the legs begin to give out.

Holding back the swear words, Sam had to move, had to let his hands fall and lightly grab hold of Dean's head. He could not stand the torture any more and needed to cum, or collapse to the floor. "Dean…." he begged. Letting the hood of his prick sit there on his tongue, Dean looked up at him almost as if waiting for an order but still with that near adoration in his eyes. There was no way Sam could resist that.

The hands on the side of Dean's head became stronger, holding him firmly and he only had time to blink once before Sam pushed his prick right to the back of his throat. Quickly, he adjusted on his knees knowing from the brief flash of dark lust in his brother's eyes that he was ceasing being patient and was about to take control. Complete control.

Damn! How Sam had missed this. Not only having Dean back, not only having Dean give him head, but giving him free rein to use him like this, to take from him, to use him. Drawing back, he thrust in hard confident Dean would open up for him. He had had plenty of practice after all.

The feel of that heat, the feel of the constriction on each thrust. As he pushed forwards, Dean would open his throat for him, as he pulled back, Dean would close his mouth and hollow out his checks, sucking hard. How could he resist that, how could he not push even further, even faster and suddenly he was cumming deep in Dean's throat.

Tears leaked from Dean's tightly screwed shut eyes, the hands on the sides of his head gripping painfully as Sam continued moving, seeming to try to push inside further, almost to the back of his neck. Desperately trying not to gag on the thick, still pulsing column of heated flesh inside his throat, his fingers dug into Sam's thighs as he held on and rode out his brother's powerful orgasm.

Collapsing back against the wall, Sam's knees did indeed give out under him. He watched through almost unfocused eyes as his moist prick slipped from Dean's lax open mouth. Sliding to sit against the wall, his head wobbled slightly as he concentrated on the sight of Dean's lush mouth. He smiled, at the stated feeling from his prick, from the fluttering of love in his heart and for Dean, who he knew hated being in such a mess but knew that equally, Sam craved to see him that way.

Dean knelt back, resisting the urge to lick away the cum and spittle from his lips and chin. His eyes concentrated on watching Sam's watch him. Sure enough, as he waited, Sam's hand rose and those long fingers began to smear the mess cross his lips, the ends of his fingers dipping into his mouth.

Sam loved to see that mess, to see Dean look so debauched and used, his lips glistening and swollen, victims of Sam's almost abuse. Usually he would not leave it there for long and glanced at the discarded towel to clean them both up but as he reached for it, he changed intention, grasping the back of the short shorn head with his free hand. As he twisted to kneel, his legs imprisoning his brother's, he pushed his fingers in further, seeing the green eyes open in surprise.

Dean just knelt there as the long fingers invaded and explored his mouth. He licked, sucked and bit at them but Sam's brow drew in in frustration and the fingers were removed to hold onto his jaw, Sam's head tilting to study him. Then his brother appeared to snap out of it and he smiled, reaching for the towel and he gently cleaned Dean's face.

Cleaning himself too, Sam then delicately touched Dean's jaw smiling still as he stared at those lips again, clean but swollen then tentively, as if he might damage them, kissed them, first the top one, then the bottom sucking it into his mouth.

Dean could not help it, he let out a soft begging moan. The sensation of his lips caught in Sam's warm mouth, the fingers so lovingly touching his jaw, his neck. He let his own top lip close on Sam's, his eyes drifting closed as he let the tip of his tongue run over the sensitive soft flesh. He moaned again. He had dreamt of this for years and, for years, it had kept him sane and strong. Dean had dreamt in Hell, had dreamt of Sam loving him, of that, softest of touches.

The moans went straight to Sam's soul. He took his time pulling off that lip, catching the other as Dean melted under his fingers, letting him take control again, letting him have his way. Both his hands now surrounded that face he adored so much as he continued to kiss and gently suckle on one lip then the other, his own quite noises joining in with his brother's continued small desperate whimpers.

He felt Dean's hand resting lightly on his hips, his fingers against his back pressing and releasing. He knew his brother well enough to know that this was him begging, pleading with him to do something, to take him and take him hard. Dean would never come out and say it, would never ask or push and pull at Sam to get what he wanted. No, Dean knew Sam well enough that he would respond much better to the passive entreaty and sure enough he did.

In a move that he could have fought, Dean found himself on his back with Sam covering him, pinning him down, his mouth consumed by the other's. Immediately his legs opened, his knees coming up high as he got the boots flat to the floor to give himself leverage as he pushed up against the so large body attempting to trap him to the ground. His hands were spread on the naked flesh on Sam's back and he found himself, tongue fucked.

Sam could not stop now. He kissed Dean as hard as he could, not wanting to hurt but wanting to feel, to have those fantastic lips give beneath his own. To surrender to him and they did. He held onto Dean's shoulders and, feeling the hard erection through the leather of those damn Lederhosen, he began to move on him, grinding his belly against it, his own lax prick hanging, caught against the fabric causing it to show interest already.

But when it came to Dean, his prick was always interested. A problem at the most inconvenient of times. But now he pushed and ground against the man who was equally intent on pushing his body into his. He wanted at him and rose up, his fingers grabbing at the fastenings of the Lederhosen. In no time he was frustrated. What the fuck?

He crawled backwards, kneeling between Dean's bent legs, searching for a way in. He started tugging at the soft leather, his face screwed up in frustration. Dean flopped against the floor as he was pushed and pulled. He wanted out of the damn things and finally broke his silence. "Sam! There's no opening! Get me out of the fucking things!"

Suddenly Sam sprang to his feet, pulling Dean up to stand in front of him. He wanted at him and could not wait. He wanted to feel him, wanted to touch that prick that had given him so much joy over the years. He wanted to bring Dean some of that joy. He swung him around and forced his right hand down inside the front of the shorts, his hand curling around the slick and attentive shaft.

It was fast and hard, Sam working him roughly, spreading the precum all along the length, no finesse, just pure heat and friction. Dean lifted his arm over his head to latch a hand onto the back of Sam's neck as his whole body arched.

Those long fingers were holding the side of his face and dipping into this mouth harshly, pulling it taut. His left hand flailed and he moved it back to hold onto Sam's hip, his fingers in turn digging into the flesh on the firm buttock.

Then it was over as he came, coating Sam's large hand as it continued to move on him, slowing to bring him through, to wring out of him another shudder, another jerk, another judder.

Dean's teeth had clamped down on the fingers in his mouth, trapping Sam just as he had Dean trapped against his body as he slumped back needing Sam to hold him up. He nuzzled against the short hairs on Dean's neck as his brother released the clamp on his fingers and began to sooth, to suck on them.

Taking his hand off Sam's hip, Dean lightly grasped hold of the hand intruding into his mouth. He wanted to love those fingers, wanted to suck and lick and slaver as Sam had prevented him from doing before. This time he held the hand hostage and had his fill.

Pulling his warm covered hand from inside the shorts, Sam moved to stand in front of Dean, his other hand still in that warm succulent orifice, his eyes coming to stare into the green glazed ones. His brother now had both hands holding his captive and he let himself close his eyes and stand to enjoy the sudo blow job that that so talented mouth was performing on him. He rocked slightly from side to side and, dropping his head, re established the eye contact as a smile, hinting at a smirk, curved his lips.

Dean's eyes never strayed from watching Sam's. The desperation that he had felt had just been tempered but still he wanted Sam's fantastic sizable prick pushing into of him, dragging out and pushing back inside. He groaned at the thought.

Sam moved closer again, pressing up against Dean. The leather was warm against his naked flesh but still in the way. He let his eyes move from the glowing gaze and searched the straps and bib for an opening. His free hand moved around to his brother's back investigating, ignoring the cum he spread on the things. As soon as he had gotten the man out of them, they were going to be trashed.

Still he could find no indication of how to remove them. So, if he could not get them off, an idea intruded and worried at his mind, no matter the feel of Dean's tongue lapping at the crease between his index and middle fingers. If he could not find a way to get Dean out of the things, how had been gotten into them?

His hand slid inside, down to spread out and gently grip a buttock. It had never ceased to amaze him just how one of his brother's smooth perfect cheeks could fit so exactly in his grasp. "Dean?" he whispered into his ear, leaning forwards.

"urr gurr?" and then he pulled his mouth back sucking along those digits but was not really interested in talking.

"Dean? Just how did you end up in this …costume?" his breath warm and then he licked at the shell of the ear and felt his brother tremble slightly and tilt his head to give him easier access. He breathed onto him again then caught the lobe between his lips.

Dean stopped for a second, then continued his ravishment of those fingers in earnest. He had wondered himself about that. Obviously the shapeshifter had been responsible but, in which guise? He hoped Lucy because, well he had to have been naked at some point, but knowing his luck? But right now he did not give a rats ass. He just wanted out of the damn things.

He liked the occasional costume and the games they would play but not this one. This was not a 'dress up' he had chosen just to piss his brother off with. This had been inflicted on him and why the hell had he been sown into it? Sick fucker. If the Shifter was not already dead...

Sam knew he would not be getting an answer soon and decided to wait for just the right opportunity to spring it on him when Dean was least expecting it. Right now he had other, more pressing, concerns on his mind. His aching prick and the nearness of Dean's most intimate area so close to his fingertips.

Dean finally pulled off those digits that he had been savouring as he felt Sam's others pushing between his buttocks, seeking out his asshole. He pushed the hand in his to the side of his face, wanting Sam to cradle him then closed his eyes at the first tentative touch at his pucker.

Sam circled the entrance as best he could but the angle was awkward. He pushed his hand inside the back of the shorts further also pushing himself hard against the other. Dean gave a slight gasp as he guessed he had just pulled the shorts tight against his recently, so abused, prick. Sam just tightened his hold against the side of his head, pulling it against his own. He felt Dean try to kiss his neck.

Dean could not hold in the anguish in the moan as Sam's cum slick finger pushed into his ass, hard. His hands clutched at the broad shoulders, his short nails digging into skin. He wanted this, he wanted it hard and fast and rough, just like Sam used to take him before, when Sam would read the need in him, the need to be used, to be fucked and made to feel alive. Made to feel as if he was the only thing keeping the need in Sam alive. But it hurt. It hurt a lot.

Sam stilled at the pain in the noise. He breathed. Dean was so tight around his embedded finger. Tighter than he ever remembered. Then he did remember, a comment that Dean had made the day before. 'Re-hymenated'. Dean's body was that of a virgin.

He slipped his hand off his brother's face and encircled his back, moving to place light soft dry kisses to the exposed skin on his neck. He had not had the pleasure, the 'privilege', of taking Dean's 'anal virginity' the first time, something that he had always quietly harboured a grudge for. Now, he had been given a second chance and there was no way he was going to hurt his beautiful older brother doing it. He was going to make love to him, whether Dean wanted him to or not.

As gently as he could, he worked his finger out of the clamping grasp and pulled his hand free from the shorts. Stepping back, he grabbed hold of Dean's hand and, seeing the doubt and questioning look in the green gaze, leant forwards to quickly kiss him then pull him by the hand, his other sliding down to the base of his spine, to the nearest bed.

Dean let himself be led and manoeuvred onto the bed and he watched as Sam moved back to look at him, a strange sweet smile on his face. He wanted to say something, to ask what his brother had in mind but then Sam reached forwards, bending at the waist to grasp one of his feet. He watched curiously as first one, then the other of his boots was removed and his feet placed back on the bed leaving him propped against the headboard, his knees bent and his legs open.

Sam straightened up, looking at the sight laid out before him. He had a gentle smile to his lips that he was unaware of and moved off, heading to his jacket. He wanted Dean out of the damn costume and he wanted him out now. Retrieving the object he turned and moved to stand once more at the bottom of the bed looking Dean in the eye.

He did not know what to expect but Dean wished Sam would stop delaying and do something. His prick, caught against the leather, was throbbing with need not to mention a little sorely and he needed Sam to sooth it. Either with his mouth or his harsh hand again. He did not care which but he needed it 'scratched'. But Sam had an almost gleeful expression on his face as he stood there hiding something behind his back.

As Sam placed one knee onto the bed, Dean sat back slightly, his hands coming up to hold onto the headboard. His brother obviously wanted him here so he had to hold onto something to stop himself from surging forwards and once more demanding his brother get him out of this thing and fuck him. He so wanted that, for Sam to take control as he used to do before, when a glint would appear in his eyes as the mood took him.

But his face was teasing, almost tender. Dean did not want to be teased, could not bare tenderness now. He did not deserve it. He wanted hard and fast and pain. Pain to tell him he was alive, the kind of pain that would have him begging for more. The kind of pleasure/pain that only his brother could give him, only his brother had ever made him feel.

Sam continued to slowly make his way up the bed, one knee at a time amazing Dean once more with his grace, such a smooth fluid movement for a man so large. He found his eyes trying to look everywhere, at the muscles clenching and relaxing with the movement, with the light striking and reflecting off his so recently cleaned skin. At that prick, lightly swollen as it swung with his movement but he was always drawn back to the eyes, rich golden hazel in the electric light. He thought he could see that glint but guessed it was just his hopeful imagination.

Finally between his brother's legs, Sam hovered over him, his fists against the bed by his brother's waist holding him up and still hiding what he had retrieved from his jacket. He closed in and placed a slow but chaste kiss to the open waiting mouth then drew back watching the green eyes blink. Kneeling back, he brought his right hand up to show Dean how he was going to get him out of the leather Lederhosen.

==000==

TBC...


	3. Chapter 3

==000==

Dean's eyes widened at the sight of the knife. _The Knife_. Sam was going to use the daemon killing knife on him. He hoped he knew what he was doing, that thing was sharp. It stayed sharp no matter what they did to it or did with it. They had never had to use a whetstone on it, its edge never dulled. But at least at some point his brother had cleaned it.

Sam saw the almost fear in his brother's eyes and he just smiled wider, the mischievousness blooming. He was not going to cut him. There was no way he wanted to mar the perfect almost scar-less body. It had been so long since either of them had not been covered in scars and scrapes and blemishes. Thinking he wanted at all that smooth beautifully freckled flesh, Sam moved the knife to press in against the leather just to the right of the bulge made by Dean's prick.

Dean drew in a breath, his eyes wide as he saw how close Sam had the knife to his renewed hard on. He wanted to say something, 'Dude, what the fuck?', sounded good but he dared not so much as to even whisper, nevermind move. He trusted his brother, he did, but…

Sam pressed the tip into the soft leather. He bit at his lip in concentration, in fascination as the tip made a soft popping noise as it pierced. He could have just cut the bib straps off and pulled the shorts down but now he had an idea to play, to tease and to maybe torture his brother just a little. The anticipation of that prick springing free, of himself being able to taste and to wallow in the juices he knew were there coating his brother's long missed penis had him holding his breath.

Slowly he pulled the sharp blade down towards himself, cutting around the bulge. He felt a shiver go through the tense man under his knife and grinned even more. He pressed in further knowing he was so close to tender flesh. He looked up at Dean.

Dean had had many thoughts about his brother over the last couple of years since the younger man's 'return', when he would look at him in a certain way. This was one of those times. The light burning in Sam's eyes at this moment was pure evil glee, the mischievousness long since over awed. No. He trusted him. He did. And besides, he knew that his brother liked his 'manhood', hell, he loved it. What it could do, what he could do to it. There was no way that Sam would endanger Dean's second most prized possession.

His second because, in a very drunken conversation many years ago, Sam had gotten him to admit that if it was between the Impala and his prick he would save the Impala, because, prick or not, Sam would still fuck him. Sam had countered that he might not be willing to fuck a dickless wonder to which Dean had propped his elbow on the table, beer bottle in hand and pointing at him, stated, 'Yeah, Sammy. You'd still want this ass!" and had proceed to get up and sway that unsteady ass out of the bar. Sam had taken a moment then, grinning broadly, had followed. Sam had had both Dean's prick and his ass, inside the Impala before they even left the bar's parking lot.

Sam grinned even harder at the almost panic on his brother's face, and rose up on his knees higher so he could drop his mouth to the bulge in the shorts. He pushed his chin and nose against it whilst still looking up at Dean.

Dean could not help but push up against him, wanting the contact, wanting the pressure. He watched avidly as Sam closed his eyes and began to nuzzle into him. He was worried. The knife was not only close to his own flesh but also so close to Sam's face but finally his brother was giving his that hardening flesh some more attention. It was not that long since he had brought him off but he needed more than that.

Sam was used to Dean smelling of leather but this scent was different, not repugnant but new and not the smell of his brother, of home. He nuzzled a moment longer then drew back to watch as he moved the knife, its keen edge continuing to cut around the bottom of the bulge. With his free hand he spread his palm on Dean's right inner thigh, pushing his fingers against the flesh then pushing them up under the leg of the shorts.

He forced his fingers in further to touch the rapidly hardening organ. Still he pushed until he could surround and hold his brother's prick which immediately responded, growing firmer under his sheltering touch. If the knife did slip, he reasoned, his fingers would be there to shield Dean.

The leather of the shorts cut into the back of Dean's leg and with the firm grasp those invading fingers had on his prick, Dean's breath hitched in as he felt that undeniable flutter in his belly. Yes he was turned on, had been since the moment his brother had exited the bathroom, but he knew that Sam would be able to feel the extra swell of his dick. The pressure on his balls trapped under his brother's hand and the constricting leather, the faint fear of the knife tip so close to his precious flesh. The almost denied thrill that Sam might just decide to cut him, to actually draw his blood. His breathing quickened, short shallow breaths as his eyes grew dark with renewed desire.

Dean had spent too much of his life in control, having to be in charge, having to take care of Sammy. Now he needed Sammy to take care of him and he was. He was skating on the edge. There was that light in Sam's eyes. He knew his brother, knew just how capable he could be of violence.

He was not concerned at that, he had always been able to handle him. He was not worried that he was going to beat him or something, that he was going to be a victim of domestic abuse but he was concerned that Sam was developing a sadistic streak. And that knife was very sharp and very close and Sam looked to be truly enjoying himself.

He also recognised that sometimes, in the heat of desire and the throws of all consuming passion, of lust, that you might unwittingly cross unwritten lines in amongst the sheets.

He himself in the past had found himself driven to new experiences, to new extremes when he could not contain the passion burning within him. But who could have done when there was a man such as Sam spread out and wanting beneath them?

Sam chose that moment to pull the knife away from him and, lifting his head, he grinned down at Dean before suddenly his face was pushing in under the cut flap of leather. Dean arched up from the bed as Sam's mouth opened and surround his left ball, sucking it into his heat. His fingers still held his prick trapped giving his brother's luscious mouth room to play.

As soon as the taste hit his tongue, Sam shifted, his arse rising in the air in an unconscious invitation for Dean to take him. But he had Dean here, under his mouth, under his control. It was the smell, the long missed but never forgotten smell that was purely his brother's sex. The taste of the already spent cum which covered everything now, his prick, his balls, the short hairs scratching at his nose was ambrosia to him.

He rolled the hard feeling sphere around under the skin in his mouth. It was not only the sensation on his tongue, against his cheeks but the knowledge that he had such dominance over his brother right now. Sucking harder, hearing the hiss from above him, he gently closed his teeth. The hiss became a whimper.

With this thrill rushing through his entire being, Sam forgot all about being gentle, about being the sensitive lover. Now he just wallowed in the sensations, the smell, taste and power.

Dean was unsure what was happening to him. Not what Sam was doing to him, but what was happening to himself, his reactions. His brother had one of his balls trapped in his mouth, _by his teeth_, and it made pre-cum drip from his aching trapped swollen hood. His head back, his eyes closed, he let his breath out panting rapidly.

Sam sucked on his prize carefully but felt that thrill go through him again as Dean gasped, sobbing out, his reaction one of possible pain but also desire. He let up on his hold, opening his mouth but let the ball lay on his tongue as Dean shuddered. He pulled back slowly, Dean's ballsack moistly slipping from his mouth and he looked into those wide eyes rapt on him and smiled lopsidedly before slowly licking the juices from his lips.

He set the knife to leather again, cutting down from the left this time, feeling the tip of the knife cut the skin on the back of his own hand but continued on, wanting his brother's prick free for his mouth. That taste had his own prick bobbing against his belly and he needed it sheaved but there was much he planned on doing before that.

Sam had always had a tendency to routine and in a world where he had none, or was forced to abandon it to necessity, he found an outlet in his dealings with Dean. In those times when his brother would let him have his way, he had developed, not exactly a routine, but a 'to do' list. It was not a conscious thing but there were certain things that needed to be done in a certain order. Each and every time he was allowed to experiment, to completely take the lead, he honed his 'signature moves'.

Right now as the piece of leather fell to his knife, he sat back pulling his hand from the shorts leg and gazed down at the glistening, solid shaft. His mouth watering, he forgot all about pleasuring his brother not even that he was there, all he saw was that prick and right now it belonged to him more than his brother.

Dean's hips rose up and he let out yet another strangled scream as Sam impaled his mouth and throat on his prick. His nails dug gouaches in the head board as Sam sucked and licked and slavered and devoured his already sensitized prick. He looked down almost horrified as Sam's right hand worked its way up to spread out on his belly pressing him down, trapping him there, much more psychologically than physically. If he moved, the edge of the knife, caught between his quivering belly barely protected by the thin blouson and Sam's large hand, would cut him. His cock juddered within the hot mouth.

Sam could tell that the prick in his mouth was close to exploding. The noises coming from his brother were needless, he knew him so well he could tell almost to the very instant when his brother would 'blow'. He shifted slightly causing the hand on Dean's belly to press in a little harder as he brought the finger tips of his free hand to his mouth to join in and become slavered with the bountiful juices he was wallowing in. Nothing, no one, had ever tasted so good to him, a taste that always went down to his core.

There were practically tears leaking from Dean's eyes as Sam continued to torture him this way, an exquisite torture. Fingertips were now exploring his most intimate opening and suddenly he was coming with a strangled roar as Sam took him straight into his throat as simultaneously a finger pushed into him, not far but enough that he could feel it. And it felt wonderful and so long overdue.

Sam laughed around the spurting head in his throat, long used to the intrusion he held no fear of gagging as he drank his brother's seed. Then he was licking and sucking and catching up every last morsel of the bitter sweet juices, enjoying not only the taste but Dean's continuous moans, his bucking against the hand holding him down, the finger still embedded inside of him. Sam could feel the continuing contractions on his digit and his heart beat missed and his belly flipped at the thought of that sensation on his own flesh, so tight, so constricting.

Dean had never been this tight on him before, and the anticipation of taking his new virginity nearly had him pulsing his own juices against the bedclothes. He pulled back to kneeling, closing his eyes as he fought with himself. Not yet, not yet. He was not concerned that he would not be able to 'get it up' again but the anticipation, the self denial and teasing would make the experience all the more. It would be everything, he knew it, he would be Dean's first this time. Dean's new life, new body, new loss of virginity. He had a lopsided grin to his face as he looked at his brother knowing that Dean was begging him to take it, not a loss but a gift.

His head falling back against the pillow, Dean thought he was going to pass out, or hit Sam. He was so tired, so weary. His brother had wrung from him two desperate orgasms already and as he licked his lips and swallowed he could have easily let his eyes close and sleep take him but for the slight soreness in his asshole that was an almost screaming itch.

He still wanted, needed Sam to really fuck him and his hips moved up and he almost squirmed at the lack of contact, at the need, as Sam just knelt there between his spread thighs and stared down at him. He watched from lidded eyes as he was watched. "Bastard!" he said under his breath but it came out as a begging moan. He turned his face to the side closing his eyes holding in another word, a begging word.

Sam smirked. He was not sure exactly what the uttered word was meant to be but it sounded like a curse. Dean thought that he was the one being tortured but his brother had never been presented with a sight such as this.

Leaning forwards, he clutched the knife in his now cum and spit coated hand and pressed the tip to the still confining leather of a leg then slit it open from the gapping hole down the twitching thigh. Hovering even closer, he watched as he slowly cut from the same gap down the length of the left leg, the back of the blade catching along Dean's flesh leaving a white line quickly turning pink as the surface suffused with blood.

As the leather fell free from the strong golden haired thigh he ran the flat of the blade back up watching the skin turn from compressed white to pink flushed flesh. He liked his lips as he pressed the edge of the blade lightly against vulnerable skin.

A moan from his brother and he pulled back chastising himself for what he had thought to do. To cover his slip he quickly reached up and almost savagely grabbed and sheared through the straps of the bib and swiftly divested Dean of the ruined shredded lederhosen throwing them as far as he could behind him then his momentum had him rocking back and covering Dean. His hands against the bed holding some of his weight he kissed Dean anywhere he could reach, his stretched neck, his jaw, one shoulder visible as the blouse was pulled down on that side, the collar having come undone with their movements.

A surprised gasp as the leather was ripped from him and Dean found his breath stolen as Sam attacked his neck then his mouth with his own. He was kissed and kissed hard, his own hands coming up to clutch at Sam's so broad muscled back and his legs immediately bent up bringing his calves to rub on his brother's buttocks opening himself up, begging silently, still begging to be fucked.

Moving against Dean's slick and still swollen prick was doing nothing for Sam's resolve but he just had to take that mouth. His brother was so willing, so compliant and would follow him anywhere. Not this time, this time was about loving his brother no matter what that brother was passively trying to get him to do.

Sam marvelled in a brief instant as he began to prize his lips from those so giving ones and kiss and lick his way down Dean's chin and throat onto his chest using his body to force those limpet legs from him. Dean was the one that always need to be in control, who always had to have the last word, who's decision had to final. But here, in the sheets, in the back of the Impala, within Sam's arms, it was a different matter. Never admitting his need for Sam to be the one to dictate to him, never the less Sam knew that he would be able to push him to almost anything.

He felt the knife catch against the sheet and thought, as his lips pressed a kiss to a nipple through the soft cotton, to cut the impeding shirt from his lover but then dismissed it. He got an image in his head from a costume drama he had caught on BBC America years before. It made him smirk, Mr Darcy had nothing on his man. But the whole white dishevelled shirt thing had stuck with him.

In all those corset busters, the white night shirts had always appealed to him. This one was only short but it was soft and covered Dean in a way to tantalise, covering the smooth chest. He wondered where he could get a Victorian style nightshirt from. He smiled again as he rubbed his check against the fabric. Dean would hate him for it. He had to get one.

But now, as he ran his hands over the fabric, the knife caught making Dean wince. A small bloom of red appeared startling against the stark white and it instantly had Sam mesmerised. Licking his lips he watched as the small stain grew. Almost with out thinking he stabbed the knife into the mattress so his hands were free. He placed them each side of Dean's waist and slowly bent down to place his lips against that small spreading bloodstain.

Dean had been surprised as the knife caught him, the pain sharp and sudden but minor. Now he had his first visible scar other than the fucking huge brand on his shoulder, but he had gotten that before his return. His hands had fallen to his sides as they had lost their hold on Sam, now he hesitantly raised them placing one on the back of his brother's head lightly and the other on a shoulder.

Sam ignored the possible impatience of the hands but then felt fingers running through his hair and the thumb on his shoulder rubbing circles lightly on his skin. The blood on the cotton tasted of copper as expected but somehow to Sam it also tasted of innocence. He knew that Dean was far from innocent, and even though his brother would not speak of it, also recognized that he was feeling tainted by his time away, his time in Hell, but still somehow his blood tasted pure.

Slowly Sam used his hands to push up the blouson and let his lips touch Dean's slit skin. Part of his mind was telling him he had marred him, that he was now responsible for the first blemish and he should be guilty over it. He did not consider the hand shaped brand a blemish. To Sam that was just a visible proof of what he had known for as long as he could remember, Dean was special, Dean was valued. Dean was important and not just to him now but to the world.

Right now though he recognised that the most important thing he could do was give Dean what he wanted, what he thought he needed, but it was Sam who needed. He lapped up the blood on Dean's side and kissed the wound before pulling back again and pressing his thumb over it to stop the flow. He raised his head looking at the lust blown eyes regarding him but saw the worry on the creased brow. Sitting back on his heals he ran his hands up Dean's sides raising the fabric on his wrists smoothing his palms over the deeply breathing chest then said softly, "Turn over for me."

==000==

TBC...


	4. Chapter 4

==000==

Looking directly at his brother, Dean lazily pushed himself to sitting trying to appear belligerent. He was excited but damned if he would let his brother see. He grasped the shirt in crossed arms determined to be rid of it but Sam put a tight grip to them, "No!" he commanded harshly enough for Dean to look askance. The look on his brother's face was set, so Dean lifted a leg to pass over Sam who did not appear to intend moving and his leg was grabbed as Sam finally divested him of the long sock.

As he turned he saw the footwear hit the wall and his other ankle was caught and also stripped. Laying down, he opened his legs wide, his face into the pillow that he clutched tightly as he tried to relax ready for the pounding he knew his brother would give him. They knew each other so well and was certain that Sam recognised his need.

His hands almost shaking, Sam placed his palms on the globes of pale buttocks and smoothed upwards to hold onto Dean's waist, his fingers gently massaging, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles at the base of the spine just as his brother's had on his shoulder minutes before. Crowding over the prone figure once more, he placed his mouth between his thumbs and gave a sucking kiss to the hollow there. Moving up inches at a time, Sam worked his way up the spine burying his face under the fabric, pushing it upwards to reveal the smooth skin.

He would never tire of revealing his brother to his eyes little by little, savouring each new bared expanse. He often wondered if his attraction to Dean was too obsessive, dangerous somehow. It probably was. They cared nothing now if people knew they were brothers, all the angst and self flagellation having been worked out and dispelled during Sam's later teenage years when Dean was convinced that he was abusing his younger brother. Sam had had to work hard to disabuse him of that.

Sam himself was the one to start all this after all and now he was here, with this amazing body spread out for him, waiting, begging, moving slightly under his hands. He burrowed his face into the side of his brother's neck and stretched out on top of him as he nuzzled the short hairs letting them tantalise his swollen sensitized lips.

Dean moaned at that tickling feeling on his hair line, at the weight pinning him down. Yet again he was amazed at how he had managed to forget this, Sam pressing against him, his weight trapping him, anchoring him both to the bed and in time. He knew with a certainty that he would always know where and why he had to be here, living breathing fighting, when he could feel that weight, the weight that he had carried, gladly, both physically and in his heart for so long, for near all his life.

Sam's hands were still splayed on his sides pressing slightly as did that so hard feeling cock rubbing so lightly trapped between his buttocks. He could scream with the need, with the longing for that hard shaft just to move down and thrust into him but Sam had started to murmur against his ear telling him he had other plans.

They never spoke like this but Sam could not help himself. He had missed Dean so much, even once he had had his brother back beside him, still he had missed the touch, the feel of him, the smell, the very essence that oozed from his pores as he was so close. That smell of love, of belonging and owning. That smell of sex. Dean's and his own combined.

"…you are so damn beautiful, so damn perfect. This skin, this flesh. No one…no one has touched this but me. And that's how I want it. How I always wanted it. You're mine now….." He rubbed his body against Dean's a little harder then slipped to the left, his right hand moving, circling down to gently grasp the pressure made pink buttock as he continued to speak into the ear which could not help but move to hear him better.

Dean wanted to reassure Sam that he had always been his, but he knew that to be a lie. He had been free and easy with his body over the years even when he had had the teenage Sammy begging him not to. But Sammy had always had his heart, he had just been too damn scared to give him his body exclusively. He had been such a fool. He gasped as Sam's hand squeezed his buttock hard, his thumb pressing against his rim.

Sam smiled against Dean's neck at the noise, "I am going to make this so much better than the first time…when you let some nameless bastard take you." He could not help it, he had always hated that Dean had not waited for him. He grasped the tight globe in his hand harder wanting to hurt him just a little for that, for the hurt that he had felt.

Dean rose up, pushing his butt into his hand, his forehead dropping to push into the pillow and Sam immediately let go and smoothed over the slight hurt. That was what his brother wanted, him to take him hard, but he was not going to do that, not this time.

Enough stalling. He moved his fingers to rub around the opening slowly, gently getting it used to the idea of intrusion. Still he mumbled his words of intention, "so tight, I am going to open you up so slowly, have you wanting to cum for me long before I'm am ready to let you. You are never going to let anyone else in but me…"

The sob stuck in Dean's throat. Never, he would never even think to let anyone take him again other than Sam. This was torture, that his brother would think that, that his brother knew he wanted him to fuck him hard but was not going to, was going to torture him with exquisite pleasure because he knew that Sam could. He had before and now he forced himself to relax against the bed because when Sam decided there was no changing his mind. Not in this, in this his younger brother always had the final word.

Using his fingers, Sam picked up some of the copious precum leaking form his own begging prick and put it to Dean's hole, once more circling, massaging but pressing insistently too. He began to lick at the ear instead of speaking into it, taking the lobe between his lips and sucking, loving those noises that his brother made.

Dean always was vocal during sex, but seldom with words. Sam did not like his brother to talk when it was his turn to be in control. When it was Dean's turn he could say what the fuck he liked but not now.

"Arrrhhh," as finally one of Sam's finger pushed into him, slowly forcing past his clenching muscle. His hands clenched under the pillow in sympathy with his asshole and Dean pushed back trying to impale himself. "Relax, I have you," he was told and Sam gently bit his ear. That was the last thing he wanted to do. He wanted to yell, to scream at Sam. To use that voice learnt from their dad, the one word use of his name that brooked no argument. But he dared not. Sam would stop, he knew he would.

Dean could not stay still though and his legs opened wider, his right knee pulling up as he tried to open himself as wide as he could with his left trapped beneath his brother. His shoulders rolled as Sam slowly began to move the embedded finger, forwards, back, pressing, twisting, sliding making Dean push up onto his forearms and grit his teeth at the slow, methodical action. His desperate groan was lost into the pillow as he forced his face into it hard.

Sam was having none of it, he continued to kiss around the perfect shell of his brother's ear, down along the tense neck to the prominent shoulder bones. He worked his finger gently but with practiced success and slipped in a second wishing that Dean would do as he asked and just relax, would just let him do this, have his way and make love to him. He had told Dean that he would open him up wide and he set to doing just that, working gently but swiftly. He had needs of his own. He would not cause hurt but he wanted to be inside the tight channel he was exploring promising himself that at another time he would succeed in getting his brother to lay there totally still if not relaxed and would get the chance to play, to truly explore.

He moved more onto his knees, his fingers pushing in and separating, massaging the walls and Dean's other leg moved to the side, his knee bending, moving up the bed to mirror the right as soon as he was released from the weight of Sam's body. Sam gave in and moving to kneel between the wide legs, he reached over to the bedside table for the lube he knew was waiting in the drawer.

It was torture covering his own eager prick with the slick gel having to close his eyes and hold his breath to still the urge to cum, his control slipping for the moment at the friction of his own hand and the sight before him, Dean's virgin asshole, glistening and rosy red and displayed waiting for him.

Dean felt Sam's hand on his left leg, smoothing down his thigh urging him to move it, to straighten out. Why could his brother not just get on with it? Take him now he was here, open, vulnerable and way past ready for him to plunge into him? The hand became more insistent so he complied just as he always did when Sam wanted something, and then his brother was there, lying on his back, his hands searching for his under the pillow.

Once more Sam began to whisper into his ear, telling him again how beautiful he was, how good he felt against Sam's skin and that prick was rubbing over his asshole, over and over again then Dean held his breath as Sam moved his hand from his and used it to finally guide that so long missed and longed for prick to push against his begging rim.

Sam too had to hold his breath as his eager and slick hood pushed against the tantalizingly tight entrance. He wanted to remember this moment, wanted to savour it, this the first time that anyone, that he, pushed into this new body. He shifted again, lying out along Dean's back, his hand now holding onto the trembling side and groaned into the short hair at the nape of his brother's neck as he slowly pushed forwards.

Dean could not believe his body's reaction as his asshole fought against the intrusion. It was surprising but wonderful as Sam's none too small prick felt huge as it forced it's way inside of him making him feel that momentary weakness that he always felt at this moment more than ever.

The tightness had Sam clenching his hand around Dean's, his other grasping Dean's flesh possibly hard enough to leave his own hand print. His brother was so tight, so all consuming around his girth and he was in danger of whimpering into his brother's ear at the sensation.

Slowly, so slowly Dean's clutching channel relaxed around him and he pushed forwards little by little sliding into the tight embrace as it reluctantly let him. He did not force, he did not push into the heat as he so craved to do. Still he did not want to cause hurt even as his brother began to push back against him, his whole body pushing up against him, his shoulders straining, his butt pushing up against him.

Sam forced himself to relax against Dean's taught body, his weight alone, heavy on the other man preventing Dean from moving. As Dean gave up the struggle and sank back to the bed, Sam passed his lips across his neck to kiss at Dean's jaw line under his ear and his brother turned his head clearing it from the pillow giving him access. As he placed small light kisses to Dean's cheek he began to pull his prick back from the tight embrace, then slowly forwards setting up a gentle push and slide.

He felt Dean immediately work his channel to make it even better for him putting the lie to his true virginity. Hid body may be remade but he had lost none of his experience, experience to give Sam the most enjoyable fuck he could. But Dean would give him that no matter what, even of he were unconscious Sam would enjoy it because this was Dean he was embedded in, this was Dean, his brother who he loved beyond distraction, beyond reason.

They knew each other so well yet sometimes Sam felt as if he did not know his brother at all. Like now, as this should all be about giving pleasure to Dean, his older brother worked to ensure that Sam was the one receiving pleasure. As he pushed into the tightness, Dean opened himself to allow Sam as far inside as he could, as Sam withdrew, Dean clenched his muscles tight holding him there causing a fantastic constriction on his prick, causing that friction that would make them both feel the burn.

Dean felt that burn throughout his entire body, his blood seeming to heat to the friction of Sam's wonderful cock thrusting and searing him. He forced his fingers between Sam's and held on just as tightly as did his brother's, squeezing in time to his movements inside of him. As the heat grew, as the friction intensified, so did his brother's thrusts.

Speeding his movements and adding as much strength as he could from the position, Sam began to thrust his hips forwards and up, twisting to find that spot within Dean's walls that would send sparks, he knew, through the older man. Once more, twice, then, there, as Dean let out a groan as his whole body gave a jolt and Sam worked at the spot, rubbing a groove into him, hitting that spot over and over again until Dean was jerking, shuddering beneath him, his channel clenching hard around Sam.

Still he pushed, over and over, relishing that extreme tightness that he thought that he had never experienced before be it either in reality or his imagination. But with his teeth clenched, trapping his roar of almost primal lust, he rammed himself inside as far as he could and then he too was juddering, spilling his long pent up spunk deep inside his brother, feeling like he could fill him up for ever, then a gasp and he collapsed against the trembling figure beneath him.

They never spoke words of love but as he lay there, still caught within his convulsing, twitching, gasping brother, Sam did speak and told him of his love, "Mine, Dean, you're mine. Mine..."

==end==

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><p>Once again, thank you to Darkgirl5 for the beta reading.<p>

Written for my 'Lawyerboy'. You know who you are!

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><p>==000==<p> 


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